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Thursday, August 27, 2015

The group gathered for their weekly prayer time in the
pastor’s study. An added blessing was
that all the members had shown up this time, with no one missing. They began by sharing news of the church, events
coming up soon, lists of who was sick or needed financial help and other
problems. The young man looked in the
doorway and was motioned in by those inside.
They were curious as to why a white man would want to join them, but
they welcomed him with smiles. He seemed
nervous. Perhaps this was the first time
he had visited a black church, but soon settled down and listened as various
names and concerns were brought forth, and scripture passages were read by some
of the group. As they began to discuss
the verses read and joined in prayers for those named, violent sounds ripped around
the room. Bodies fell over, hit by
bullets from the gun carried by the visitor.
He continued shooting until all seemed dead and then walked out. One member managed to crawl away, leaving the
others lifeless, staring at nothing.

Later, when the horror of that moment was announced,
shock destroyed all joy. Yet not long
after that, families began to voice their grief in unexpected responses: that
of forgiveness for the killer, who had been arrested and stood defiantly before
a judge. He claimed his action was for
the purpose of beginning a race riot.
When he was told that he had been forgiven by the victim’s families, he
sneered. But there in that courtroom
someone stood up and faced him directly.
Those in attendance recognized the speaker as Mark Twain, who made a
solemn statement and disappeared:
“Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has
crushed it.”

In his cell, alone, the killer noticed a sweet odor
permeating his surroundings but could find no source for it. It engulfed him despite his efforts to wave
it away. It remained permanently with
him during the trials and sentencing and long afterwards until the fragrance
joined him in the grave.